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Bhill Sep 23
The cricket was only doing what crickets do
Walking slowly up the walk looking for more crickets
Looking north and south, east and west
He or she appeared to alone
Where were more crickets
Where was the orchestra of fellow crickets
What happened

The wonderment stopped when this cricket let out “crick-it, crick-it”
The orchestra followed suit and sounded out in cricket harmony
Cricket harmony so welcomed by this once lonely cricket

Off it hopped to join in the symphonic noises created by the once hidden fellow crickets

Crick-it, Chirp, Crick-it, Chirp, Crick-it......

Brian Hill - 2019 # 239
Felt a bit silly this morning..
Let your cricket orchestra sing out!
Taoist Monk Sep 15
Is it any wonder
They are jealous of your strength
You bleed every month
And have met with death

Though you fear
May shed a tear
And your voice may sometimes shake

When you decide to speak
It's an earthquake

They struck you once
And hit flesh
They struck again
and bled to death

One thing they remembered in shock
You strike a woman, you strike a rock

It's sad to see, my own gender
Degrade the one that birthed us
It's no wonder, they have lost faith in us
Wathint' Abafazi, Wathint' Imbokodo'
Mitch Prax Jul 29
I have been living
just north of nowhere and south
of everything else

4:03 PM
as night did approach
rapid moving south winds drove
through our township's streets
Star BG Jun 13
I look to the East with deepen breath,
freeing soul inside love.
I look to the West with dancing steps,
freeing my soul inside dreams.
I look to the South with open eyes,
freeing soul inside visions.
I look to the North with hearts song,
freeing soul as my mind follows.
I look up to the sky with gratitude,
freeing soul integrating light
I look down to Mother Earth,
freeing soul as my feet ground.

Ground in celebration of a new day.
Love connecting to directions. Each one houses different aspects of greatness
S Bharat Apr 8
The Peak of Success

The reason
My professor loved me
So much,
I thought there was
Something to be known.
When I asked him
To give its account,
He smiled and
Had something nice
To be shown.
He opened his diary then,
Some lines he sought.
Once you'd opined,
he said then,
It was the great thought
On the peak of success
(in your mind).
He continued his talk
And told the rest,
It shouldn't be having
The tip and cliff
Or that of the Everest.
A question you'd raised,
What if it is
The Table Mountain
And its land?
You meant, its crest,
Where everyone
Could stand.

S. Bharat
Michael Mar 19
The Ninth Battalion (Australia)

By Sun-filled day and frosty night,
O’er rugged hills and desert sand,
We learned to work as teams, to fight
In jungles of another land.

From every city, State and town,
All the lovely countryside,
Impelled by grim war’s cold, bleak frown,
Gathered we at fair Woodside.

And some of us were volunteers,
But mostly we young conscripts were,
With youthful hopes, ambitions, fears;
Young men’s dreams of love were there.

And lusts, for we weren’t choir boys,
Nor simpering wowser, nor old maid.
We searched for brawling, drinking joys
And chased the girls of Adelaide.

Oh Adelaide, what wondrous pubs,
The Rundle, Gresham (Mind you Roy?),
The Western, Finden, all were hubs
Of social, sinful, youthful joy.

But scarce the city trips sublime.
Beneath the awesome stars our home.
And Sun-bronzed we became with time,
Leigh Creek, Cultana, ours to roam.

At Murray Bridge we fired our weapons, honed our drills;
Formed Section and Platoon at Humbug Scrub, and that was fun.
We dug-dug-dug to prove to them that be our skills,
And by night stood freezing piquet on the gun.

Canungra’s forest, where chilled to bone
We learned to ambush and by sudden flare to ****.
The Flinders Range, those hills of stone.
Shoalwater Bay did prove our skill.

And at the last and having passed our nation’s test,
(for some a final accolade)
And to that question answered yes,
We made farewell to Adelaide.

At Murray Bridge we fired our weapons, honed our drills;
Formed Section and Platoon at Humbug Scrub, and that was fun.
We dug-dug-dug to prove to them that be our skills,
And by night stood freezing piquet on the gun.
annh Apr 15
Wind to the west,
From the east blows cold,
Bringing tales of lost ships,
And sailors of old.

Wind to the east,
From the west blows warm,
Carrying the promise of summer,
And friendships reborn.

From the north and the south,
Opposing forces collide,
Threatening snow in September,
And gales in July.

But here in the centre,
Is where I like best,
Where the air is familiar,
And my heart is at rest.

For here in the centre,
Is where I call home,
Many miles from the places,
Where the winds do roam.
‘A breeze will always blow in the direction it wishes to go,’
Anthony T. Hincks
Eelgrass is stripped bare from south shores -
Once bountiful and glistening in the
October spangled winds, long before
They gathered in a silent understanding.

Instinct in formation tells them of a
Warmth beyond these waves. Tides swelling
And black necks straining. Tomorrow the shore
Is empty. The coastline weeps and waits
For leaves to fall again, in shorter days.
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